


Secrets All In View

by laireshi



Category: Avengers (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Alcoholism, Angst, Civil War II (Marvel), Fake Character Death, Hydra Cap, Implied/Referenced Character Death, It's Kinda Both, M/M, Non-consensual kiss, Unhappy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-08
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2019-07-08 09:16:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15927392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laireshi/pseuds/laireshi
Summary: All it took to destroy Tony Stark was to take Steve Rogers away from him.





	Secrets All In View

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [What If](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15099626) by [skyeedom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/skyeedom/pseuds/skyeedom). 



> Written for Cap-IM TRB Round 6 - Prime. Check out skyeedom's art which inspired it--it's simply beautiful, if heartbreaking!
> 
> Also a fill for my bingo card, square "It wasn't worth it".
> 
> The warnings are explained at the end.

Tony wasn’t crying anymore. He was looking down, his head hidden in his arms as if that could’ve helped, and his face was wet with tears, but he wasn’t making any sounds. He was shaking, small tremors that ran through his body, and his fingers were almost white where he was clutching at his hair. 

Steve Rogers’ dead body was on a slab in front of him. 

At first, he’d just stared at it; seemingly unable to look away. The tears had come later, when he must’ve realised: _this_ was his reality now.

He was beautiful when he’d cried, eyes red, sorrow driving him mad.

The quiet despair radiating off him now was different, but he wasn’t any less striking now; the contrary. He was like an artistic masterpiece.

And it was Steve’s doing. 

He smiled to himself, standing in the shadows, perfectly concealed—as if Tony could’ve noticed anything that wasn’t his broken heart. 

Still, Steve had prepared. The corpse _was_ that of a Steve Rogers: just not himself. There was an infinite number of universes, after all, even after the incursions and all of Tony’s lies and secrets designed to cover the atrocities. It was all right to kill as long as Tony Stark was doing it, of course; and Steve could laugh at the hypocrisy.

Tony Stark was the hardest adversary he’d have to fight . . . And yet, he was so weak, too, his blind spots so obvious. Hurting him was so easy and immensely pleasurable. 

“How could you do this to me again?” Tony whispered. 

Steve stood very, very still.

“How could you?” Tony didn’t look up, and his voice was raw. “You died fighting me before. Did you have to go and die _saving_ me this time?” He was shaking so much; he fell from the chair he was sitting on, but didn’t seem to notice, just stayed there, curled on the floor in his undersuit, clutching his knees to his chest. “I can’t remember the first time. I used to wonder—I want to forget now, too, but what’s the point, _what’s the bloody point,_ you’ll stay dead, and I—how do you expect me to go on?!”

He picked himself up, crawled closer to the body. Steve watched, fascinated.

“Wake up,” Tony begged. “ _Please_ wake up. I’ll do anything you want, just, please, _wake up_. Don’t do it to me.”

 _Anything_. Steve _would_ test this promise. Just not yet.

There was another Tony Stark in another universe right now, Steve knew, and he would burn his world down to find his Steve Rogers, and he would fail.

Steve could use him, too, but it wasn’t as tempting as breaking and rebuilding his own Tony. No one else compared. No one else shared the history with Steve, of course, and no one else was as brilliant.

No, Steve had gotten what he wanted from that other world, and now he would stay here. Hidden. Waiting. 

“If I’d known how this ends,” Tony said in an empty voice, “I wouldn’t have fought. There’s nothing—I would’ve—” He started crying again, and a shiver went through Steve. Tony reached up, touched his fingers to the corpse’s chest, recoiled as if burnt. “I was doing the right thing,” he said. “I _know_ I was! But if this is the end? It wasn’t worth it, Steve.”

Steve almost stepped out of the shadows. He _could_. He was tempted. There was a million lies he could tell, a million explanations. He could taste Tony’s tears on his lips, he could give him hope again; more than hope: a _certainty_ that things would be all right. He could do it, and then he could tell Tony the truth. 

He didn’t.

He’d planned for it. No matter how exquisite Tony’s suffering was right now, Steve knew he could make it worse still. He needed a Tony Stark who was desperate for anything: even a Steve Rogers whispering ‘hail Hydra’ into his ear. And he would get him.

With one last look at Tony’s shivering form, Steve left the room.

He headed for Tony’s apartment, making just one stop on the way in an expensive liquor store. Tony’s security _was_ state-of-the-art, but of course Steve had all the overrides. It wasn’t as if Tony thought to revoke them, now that he thought Steve was dead.

Steve placed the bottle in the kitchen cupboard, and then he waited. Tony would pick himself up, or someone would do it for him and send him home. Steve could be patient. 

An hour passed before the door opened. Tony, still dishevelled, all but fell inside his own home. He caught himself on a wall, shuffled his feet as he went for the kitchen. 

He opened the cupboard with a dazed expression, and then he froze.

Steve knew what he was thinking, or maybe what he _would_ be thinking if he could process the grief. Any other day, Tony Stark _would_ double-check his security. He _would_ remember he had poured the alcohol out, after his last argument with Steve, no less, when Steve accused him of drinking when he’d needed him more and more off-balance.

But not today, and he reached inside and grabbed the bottle with shaky hands.

Steve did so love to see a plan unfold well.

All it took to destroy Tony Stark was to take Steve Rogers away from him. _Pathetic_.

Tony didn’t even bother with the glass. He raised the bottle straight to his lips, and he drank. He drank like he wanted to forget, which he clearly did; like he wanted to fall asleep and never wake up again.

Steve couldn’t quite have that, but he waited still.

Tony slid down to the floor, his knees hitting the cold tiles while he cradled the bottle in his arms, making sure it didn’t shatter. 

He kept drinking, and Steve kept waiting. _Almost there_ , he thought. _Just—_

Tony’s eyes were unfocused. 

Steve walked to him.

Tony looked at him, tears in his eyes again. “You’re dead,” he slurred. “You’re dead and it’s my fault.”

Steve knelt next to him. “Yes,” he agreed. “I died for you, and you’re drinking.”

“I’m sorry,” Tony gasped out. “I’m sorry. I’m not strong enough. I can’t—you’re gone, Steve, you’re—” His voice broke. He reached out to Steve, and Steve moved just outside of his reach.

“What a waste,” Steve told him. 

Tony cried harder. He didn’t even try to defend himself.

“Do you think this is what I wanted?” Steve whispered to him. He didn’t expect Tony to know the true answer, but it didn’t matter.

“I can’t,” Tony protested. “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t—”

Steve smiled. He leant in and pressed a kiss against Tony’s mouth. “You killed me,” he said, cruel. “And your punishment is to keep living.”

Tony stopped sobbing. He just looked at Steve, lost and broken and terrified.

Steve walked away.

**Author's Note:**

> The Steve who is dead in the story is not 616 Steve. 616 Steve is Hydra Steve. Tony doesn't know either of those things. There's nothing graphic in it, but Steve kisses a drunk Tony, who thinks he's hallucinating.
> 
> This fic has a [ tumblr post](https://laireshi.tumblr.com/post/177854507302/all-it-took-to-destroy-tony-stark-was-to-take) and a [twitter post](https://twitter.com/tonytears/status/1038253898744647680).


End file.
